.

For often through the silent nights

A funeral, with plumes and lights,

"I am half-sick of shadows," said

The Lady of Shalott.

Lord Alfred Tennyson, The Lady of Shalott



*********

"Vasusena is a Vaikartana..." Kripa whispered, his voice tinged with awe and disbelief.



His mind flashed back to the first time he had laid eyes on the boy. He had looked frail, malnourished and smaller than his peers—a child whose physical form concealed the power that he would, even in those days, wield with ease.



But what had struck Kripa most was the haunting emptiness in those eyes, a void so profound it seemed the boy didn't belong to this world. They were the eyes of someone who did not belong. He looked like a soulless puppet mimicking life, a child whose presence felt more like an intrusion into the world than a part of it.



Yet, in battle or the throes of learning, those same eyes burned with a fierce intensity that made everyone, even Kripa himself, uneasy. It was as if, in those moments, the lifeless shell was possessed by something far greater, something dangerous. There was a reason why Vasusena was called Rakshasa by all the other trainees.



It was a gaze that unsettled even the most hardened of warriors, a fierce and disconcerting presence that made Kripa's blood freeze in his veins.



It was as if Vasusena, in those moments, transcended human limitations, becoming something altogether different.



Kripa had once chanced upon servants discussing in hushed tones that Vasusena was not a child at all, but an unfinished creation of Lord Vishwakarma—a lifeless golem masquerading as a human. He had been inclined to agree.



But now, the revelation that this cold-blooded child was born out of the essence of Surya Narayana shattered his understanding of the world. The shock rippled through him, challenging everything he thought he knew.



When he had been Vasusena's teacher... Kripa had felt that the power should be more suited to a Kshatriya rather than a suta. And it turns out, he was only slightly wrong. Vasusena was not just any ordinary Kshatriya. He was a Devaputra by birth.



The clash between him and Arjuna... Kripa knew it would haunt him for the rest of his days. The battle—laid bare before him by Vishwadhipathi—was seared into his memory with an intensity that defied words.



"How could that adharmi, that scoundrel, be a Devaputra like my own grandsons?" His step-brother's voice cracked with anguish, his disbelief palpable as he grappled with the jarring revelation of the boy's divine lineage. "Even after all the adharma he has wrought, I am bound by vow on our behalf by Krishna and the wrath of Surya Deva. I cannot kill him for the division he has caused in our family!"



"Pitrvya... please, calm yourself," Vidura pleaded, his eyes filled with concern.



"Calm?" King Shantanu's firstborn's voice rose to a fevered pitch, trembling with hysteria. "How can I possibly remain calm, Vidura? Did you not witness the sheer power Vasusena wielded?" A shudder swept through the Pillar of Hastinapur and every soul present, the weight of dread palpable in the room. "Why did Bholenath bestow such a formidable boon upon that wretched soul? If not for Vishwadhipathi... our family would be shattered beyond repair."



"Everything is better now, Pitrvya," Vidura attempted to soothe him, his voice steady though laden with worry. "Seeing our anguish Vishwadhipathi himself came to solve our problem.



As for Vasusena... that wretched soul will never find favor with Maharani Gandhari again. Suyodhana has vowed to honor his mother's commands. And after seeing Vasusena's true nature, she will never permit any friendship between the two. Gradually, the poison Vasusena has spread will drain away, and our family will be united once more."



"But he will remain unpunished for the venom he injected into the very heart of the Gandharinandanas," Gangadutta uttered in a voice laden with anguish and despair. "Thanks to him, none of the Kauravas can look upon me without a veil of disgust. What of that, Vidura?



I am well aware that I bear at least partial responsibility for their disdain, but Vasusena's insidious venom has tainted their perception of me. They used to hold me in respect and esteem. But now, all I see in their eyes is a well of revulsion."



Vasusena, with his malicious influence, had managed to twist even the loving heart of Devi Gandhari into one of loathing. The sheer intellect and cunning of that boy was absolutely terrifying to behold. They needed a contingency against this intruder in their House and Kripa knew who exactly they could go to for that contingency.



"Jyestha..." Kripa began, his voice softening as he made eye contact with Vidura and his stepbrother. "I have a request for both of you."



Bharatsattam halted abruptly and stared at his step-brother in confusion. "What?" he asked—his tone a mix of curiosity and concern.



"I wish to take a leave from my duties for an unspecified period," Kripa stated firmly, his gaze unwavering despite the startled look of betrayal on his brother's face.



"Kakashree..." Vidura interjected, his voice trembling with anguish. "What are we discussing here, and what are you proposing? In these dark and uncertain times, you speak of abandoning us?"



"I am leaving Hastinapura," Kripa declared with resolute determination, "and I will travel to Parashurama Kshetram, Jyestha." He spoke with a firmness that brooked no argument, avoiding the wounded gaze of the son of Bhagirathi. "There is a good reason for why I decided to make this journey. I'm going there to seek your Gurudeva for the knowledge that will aid us in confronting Vasusena."



Kripa's words served to extinguish the immediate sense of betrayal in their hearts, though they were replaced by confusion and uncertainty. Observing their puzzled expressions, Kripa continued to clarify his intentions.



"Do you recall the confrontation between Gurushresta and Vasusena, Jyestha?" Kripa felt a sinister grin spread across his face, a predatory gleam in his eyes that felt foreign even to him. The bloodthirsty expression on his face was, however, unsettling for the others in the room.



But they did not tarry at it for too long. The brother of Kripi could see the irritation flare in both Vidura and Gangeya at the mention of that incident.



"Yes, I remember," Bhishma growled, his voice trembling with barely restrained fury. "He dared to call my revered teacher a heartless butcher. That insult, that affront—I'll never forget my teacher's pained countenance on that day—not till the very end of my life."



Kripa's gaze was steady, almost admonishing, as he replied, "And that, Jyestha, is precisely what we must focus on." His tone was calm, but it carried an edge that cut through Bhishma's anger like a blade forged by Vishwakarma himself. "I held my tongue that day, not because of agreement with you, but because a question gnawed at my very soul. A question so unfathomable, so beyond the realm of possibility, that I never dared to consider it—not even in the wildest reaches of my imagination."



Vidura's brow furrowed in confusion. "What question, Kakashree?"



Kripa's eyes sharpened, a glint of newfound clarity illuminating his expression. "Why did Vasusena insult Gurushresta so horrifyingly? There was no need to do so. So why did he? He has never been the kind to be idiotic or impulsive. And insulting Lord Parashurama is the exact kind of idiotic and impulsive act that I wouldn't expect from him. That begs a question. Why?



And why, in the name of all thirty-three gods, did Rainukeya not kill or at least curse that Suta?" Kripa's tone was a mixture of revelation and dread. "But now, after the arrival of Vishwadhipathi, the answer to that question has become terrifyingly clear."



Both Bhishma and Vidura inhaled sharply, at the same time. Oh Oh.



"Vasusena can see the future," Kripa declared, his voice charged with the thrill of discovery. "He can peer into countless possible futures, predicting every move, every thought, before it even forms in the minds of his opponents. When Lord Parashurama came here to take him as his disciple... Do you remember what Guru Parashurama said his response was?"



"'Learning under you, Gurudeva is like a sheep trusting a butcher,'" Vidura repeated, the chilling words of Vasusena to Guru Parashurama still vivid in his mind. The mere mention of those words made Bhishma growl in frustration, and his anger rekindled.



"Vasusena is an adharmi," Kripa said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "But he possesses the terrifying power to see into the future."



"He insulted Lord Parshurama because your Gurudeva sought to manipulate and kill him, Jyestha. Your Gurudeva... in all the futures Vasusena has seen will be the cause of his death. And the way he will cause the death of Vasusena will be that of a betrayal.



Your Gurudeva is a traitor in the eyes of Radheya. And he accepted himself to be a traitor out of shame. That's the reason why he didn't curse or kill Adityanandhana."



Vidhura was rooted to the spot as he swallowed painfully. Goodness.....



"Vasusena foresaw the conflict that would arise between them. He knew Parashurama would come to see him as a threat, a danger to the very balance of dharma. And yet, he chose to walk that path, driven by something that is not known to us, as of now," Kripacharya pronounced firmly.



"Vasusena predicted his own downfall at the hands of Jamadagneya?"



"The kind of people whom the Vishnu avatar seeks to destroy is always on the side of adharma," he explained. "Vasusena was right to reject Guru Parashurama's tutelage that day. Because in every possible future, he foresaw, a Vishnu avatar would be the cause of his demise."



The Greatest of Kuru Vamsa let out a low growl. "Once an adharmi, always an adharmi," he declared with the finality of a judge delivering a death sentence. "Get to the point, Kripa. Why is this crucial?"



Kripa's eyes narrowed, his voice lowering as if to contain the magnitude of what he was about to reveal. "Because, Jyestha, oddly enough Vasusena was favored by not one, but two Vishnu avatars." The words hung in the air, heavy with a mix of reluctant awe and foreboding. "One of them even cherished him enough to desire him as a disciple. And when I asked Krishna himself why he harbors such animosity towards that boy, do you know what he replied?"



He paused, taking a deep breath before repeating Krishna's message: "'Vasusena is one of the finest individuals I've ever known, Kripacharya. Yet his seething anger towards me and Bhishma transforms him into a cold-blooded being.



He could have wielded the power granted by Parameshwara to mend this fractured family. But instead, he chose to use it to shatter it further.' Those were his words, Jyestha. His exact words."



Bhishma's voice trembled, the disbelief etched into every syllable. "The avatar of Vishnu said this?"



"Yes." He spoke solemnly. "Krishna spoke those words to me in my mind. He is not a bad person or an adharmi in the eyes of Krishna and Guru Parashuram."



Kripa shook his head and continued, his tone measured and deliberate. "But that's not the main point, Jyestha," he continued, his voice gaining a sharp edge. "In the thousands of futures that Vasusena foresaw... the foundation of his demise was always, always laid by the hand of a Vishnu avatar. Suryaputra understood with chilling clarity that he could never entrust his life or his fate to a Vishnu avatar."



He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in, before delivering the final blow. "In the countless futures he glimpsed, what are the chances that Vasusena never once saw a future where he stood alongside, rather than opposed to, a Vishnu avatar?" Bhishma's face grew pensive, the gravity of the question pulling him into deep thought.



"The odds, Jyestha, are astronomically low. And those odds diminish even further when you consider that he could see the future with such precision."



Kripa's voice dropped to a near whisper, yet it carried the weight of a hammer striking an anvil. "So, why is he an adharmi in every future he perceives? Why did he consciously choose the path of adharma, even after witnessing the fate that awaited him?



I do not say this lightly. If Ravanasura knew his future, even he would change his ways. Vasusena might not be more intelligent than Lankapathi, but he is wiser. A person who has known as many stories as that Suta has will always be wise. Because he will know what not to do."



Kripa's eyes bore into Bhishma's as if trying to impress upon him the gravity of what he was saying. "Vasusena deliberately decided to remain an adharmi. It was a conscious decision of his. Otherwise, he would never have rejected the hands of Lord Parshurama and Krishna, who sought to guide him onto the path of righteousness."



"What if he is submitting to his fate?" Bhishma mused to himself.



"Does that boy seem like a person who cares about things like Niyathi, Jyestha?" He spoke in an irritated manner. "If he did... he would never have killed Gandharraj just to change the fate of his brother. His entire journey till now is to change what Niyathi holds for him."



"He must have another strong reason for doing so, Kakashree," Vidura finally spoke, the realization dawning on him like a bolt of lightning. "If we can uncover that reason—if we can grasp what drives him—we can use it as leverage against him." His voice was laced with a newfound urgency. "I'll begin the preparations for your journey to Mahendragiri immediately."



Bhishma's expression hardened, his voice taking on a steely resolve. "Vidura and I will explore other avenues," he declared, his mind starting to plan the strategies to repel the darkness that plagued his clan.



"Vasudevaputra mentioned that Suyodhana only shared one part of what Vasusena revealed to his parents. We must uncover the full conversation, every word exchanged between them. There's something crucial hidden in those words, something we cannot afford to ignore."



He paused, his mind racing. "I wish Krishna were still here. With his insight, his wisdom—he could unravel this mystery with a mere glance. Why didn't you ask your question when he was here, Kripa?"



Kripa's face clouded with frustration, his voice barely above a murmur. "I realized its significance only after he left," he admitted, the weight of missed opportunity leaving a bad taste in his mouth.



The air between them crackled with the tension of their shared determination, the sense that time was slipping through their fingers, and with it, the answers they so desperately sought. If they did not get those answers in time... he doesn't know what devastation Adityanandhana would wreak upon Hastinapur with them being entirely powerless to prevent it.





*******************************************************



(Bhishma)



Nearly nine months had passed since the arrival of the Vishnu avatar in Hastinapura, and the consequences had been far-reaching. Vasusena, once a trusted companion to the princes, had been formally banished from their company by Queen Gandhari's decree.



However, the situation was more complex than it appeared on the surface. Dhritarashtra, his nephew, had not rescinded the order that barred the ministers, including Prime Minister Vidura, Kulguru Kripacharya, and the relatives from both sides of the family, from entering the royal quarters except for matters of state. While Gandhari continued to receive them, Dhritarashtra's resolve remained unyielding.



What troubled Bhishma the most, however, was the disturbing change in Vasusena. The boy had seemingly embarked on another tapasya, a penance that had everyone on edge. He had stopped eating, and upon closer inspection, even refused to drink a single drop of water.



Others might not notice the subtle signs, but Bhishma saw them clearly. Vasusena's refusal to engage in the extermination of rakshasas, cruel animals, or bandits by stating, "I am not a Kshatriya; it is not my place," was deeply unsettling.



As if he never did that before. Adityanandhana had the highest kill count in monster and bandit extermination among the army. He had never refused those orders. It did not take a genius to understand that the abominable Suta had started a tapasya again. Only during tapasya did people—who, under ordinary circumstances, would not refrain from killing— refrain from spilling blood, after all.



The last time this adharmi had undertaken a penance, he had invoked the presence of Neelakantha and received a boon to become his disciple. The power he had gained had kept Bhishma awake for many nights, his heart gripped by cold fear at the thought of what the boy might do next.



Gandhari had ordered him to sever his friendship with the princes, and Vasusena had complied without a single word. Sun would have to rise in the west for that to happen at any other time.



Radheya was neither a compliant nor an obedient child. He was a rebel who always fought against the world. He was not the kind who would go down without a fight.



But this time, Vasusena was unnervingly silent. There were no grand gestures, no bold actions—nothing that could be predicted or controlled. This silence gnawed at Bhishma's soul, setting both him and his nephew Vidura on edge.



Kunti, in her wisdom, had suggested that Vasusena become her personal guard, perhaps as a means to keep a watchful eye on the boy. But, in an expected turn, Vasusena refused to become one.



That boon, which was a blessing to Vasusena, was nothing more than a curse for any plans they might make against the bastard. Whatever plans they concocted, Vasusena would know—his eyes would reveal them even before the thought entered their minds.



Oddly enough... Kunti had been devastated by Vasusena's refusal. 'My daughter is too kind-hearted, too pure, to hate even that adharmi,' he mused, the thought lingering in his mind like a heavy cloud



His personal guard and charioteer, Pashi, announced that the soldier from the Samudra division, whom Bhishma had discreetly paid to monitor Vasusena, had arrived with urgent news. This soldier's task was simple: to report any deviation in Vasusena's routine or any actions that could spell trouble for Hastinapur.



This particular spy had once brought the peculiar report that Vasusena, during this tapasya, was praying not just to one deity, but to both Parameshwara and Vigneshwara. Bhishma had found this highly unusual—most devotees during such intense penance focused their prayers on a single god.



'Even his tapasya is odd,' Bhishma had mused. The dual devotion had puzzled him. Why would the boy invoke both? The uncertainty gnawed at him, the lack of clarity feeding his growing anxiety. Vasusena was aware of the spy. It was impossible for him not to notice the snitch in his midst; So perhaps he was feeding him misleading information. Yet, the possibility that this was not a deception gnawed at Bhishma's mind.



He had received word from Kripacharya just yesterday morning that he would be reaching Hastinapur in less than three days. The urgency of the situation gnawed at him. They needed leverage against Vasusena, and they needed it as soon as possible. The upcoming arrival of Kripa brought a flicker of hope; perhaps, with his brother's efforts, they could secure the leverage they desperately needed against Vaikartana.



Hoping against hope that the news wasn't dire, Bhishma ordered the spy to be brought before him.



"Pranaam, Mahaamahim Bhishma," the soldier, Jala, greeted, bowing deeply.



"What news do you bring?" Bhishma demanded, his tone not betraying the tension he felt.



Jala hesitated for a moment before speaking, "Vasusena ate with us today."



Bhishma's heart plummeted at the words. His face drained of color as the realization struck him immediately. If Vasusena had resumed eating, it could only mean one thing—his tapasya was complete. What boon did that adharmi receive this time? Fear gripped his heart at the unknown.



Please, Narayana, he prayed silently, his heart gripped by a cold, unrelenting dread. Save us from whatever disaster Vasusena is planning to unleash upon Hastinapura.



But the evening brought a fierce storm with it. After the court sessions had concluded, a messenger burst into the court, his face ashen, eyes wide with terror. Gasping for breath, he delivered the dire news: Bhimasena had been swept away by the merciless waves of the Ganga following a heated altercation with Suyodhana.



Panic erupted within the palace walls, spreading like wildfire. Orders were barked and with frantic urgency—all the remaining princes were to be brought back to Hastinapura immediately. The soldiers tasked with guarding them, along with Dronacharya himself, were to join in the search for the golden-hearted prince.



'That abominable bastard... This must be the work of his accursed boon,' he seethed inwardly, his thoughts a maelstrom of rage and despair. 'Forgive me, Surya Narayana... but your child has crossed every boundary today.'



Vasusena was called a good person who became an adharmi out of anger by Krishna. And he was a man who loved children more than anyone in the world. The logical part of his mind struggled to calm the raging tempest within. We must await Kripa before confronting the boy. Without iron-clad proof... he will make fools of us in the court of Hastinapur.'



But his emotions warred with his reason. He must have performed the tapasya with the sole intent of dividing my family. Vasusena is obsessed with taking revenge on me. His thoughts are a torrent of fury. Krishna said that those eyes cannot predict the path of the Devas. So when he wished for my family to be broken irrevocably, he might not have known the consequences. And the devas must have orchestrated this fight to fulfill his wish.



With this fight... any chance of reconciliation between the Pandavas and the Dhārtarāṣṭras would be nearly impossible.



'But we cannot prove it.' The logical side berated him. 'And even if we assume that Vasusena asked for a cruel wish and got it fulfilled... Parameshwara and Vigneshwara are not cruel. They will not let Bhimasena die just to fulfill the wish of an adharmi.'



And the most frustrating part was that they needed that adharmi. With the help of his eyes, they could find Bhimasena quicker than any other method. That thought only made the son of Ganga angrier.



With long, furious strides, Bhishma stormed toward the quarters where the Samudra division resided. Though he tried to rein in his wrath, it radiated off him in waves, causing those in his path to shrink back in fear. The servants scattered like startled birds, each desperate to avoid the formidable ire of JahnaviPutra.



"Where is Vasusena?" he demanded, his voice sharp as a blade, as he found one of the soldiers quivering in a corner. The Suta was not in his usual haunts. The soldier, trembling, stammered out that Vasusena was in the training grounds. Without a word Bhishma stomped off—his fury barely contained—to find the suta.



He found Vasusena calmly meditating in the training grounds, seemingly unperturbed by the storm approaching him in the form of the Lord Protector of the Throne.



"Vasusena..." Bhishma's voice was measured, but the undercurrent of anger was unmistakable.



The boy let out a deep sigh and opened his eyes. "If you are here about Prince Bhimasena, Mahamahim Bhishma, then there's nothing I can do to help you with that."



Bhishma clenched his fists, his anger surging. Because of this Suta's wish, his grandson was lost and now he was refusing to help.



Then a pit formed in his stomach. Vasusena, who loved children and always did his duty, was not helping in the search for Bhimasena. Did this mean his grandchild was dead? The thought was unbearable. If that was the case, Vasusena would pay dearly.



Perhaps sensing the dark turn in Bhishma's thoughts, Vasusena narrowed his eyes in irritation. "Prince Bhimasena is still alive. But for the next seven days, he'll be unconscious. No human could find him during this time. He's in Nagaloka."



"What?" Bhishma's fury evaporated, replaced by shock.



"Vayuputra is currently in Nagaloka, where humans are not allowed without permission from the Nagas." Vasusena stood up and dusted off his clothes.



"After falling into the river, Prince Bhimasena was swept away by the currents and ended up near the Royal Entrance of the Naga Kingdom. He is a hot-headed child, so he'll fight and injure several Nagas guards whose duty is to deny your grandson entry to their kingdom. Long story short, those cries will attract the King of Nagas, Vasuki who, impressed by your grandson's valor, will decide to reward him.



Rajamata Kunti's maternal grandfather, Aryaka Naga, is one of Vasuki's chief advisors. He will request Naga Amrita to be given to his great-grandson. Each pot of Naga Amrita increases a person's strength by the power of a thousand elephants and makes them immune to all poisons in the world.



Prince Bhimasena will drink ten pots of amrita. The power gained from that would be overwhelming for anyone, so he'll be unconscious. He will be taken to his great-grandfather's place where the Nagas will monitor him for the next seven days as his body adjusts to his newfound power."



Bhishma's face lit up with happiness. At this young age his grandson would receive a boon that would make him extremely powerful.



"He's fighting the Nagas right now. Searching for him is a waste of both time and resources. After he wakes up, Chief Aryaka himself will bring him here."



But his joy was quickly shadowed by the mocking tone that crept into Aditya Putra's voice. "You thought my penance caused this, didn't you?" Bhishma was startled by the sudden shift in conversation.



Vasusena's smile was patronizing. "Instead of losing your temper as you usually do, you used your brain for once. Guess even old dogs can learn new tricks."



The mocking words made him wrathful. Kripa would come to Hastinapur by the end of tomorrow. Bhishma hoped his brother would bring a leash they could tie to the neck of Vasusena.



It was the first time since his humiliation on that day that he spoke to Vasusena. And he couldn't understand how an adharmi such as he could be liked by two Vishnu avatars.



He needed to know why this boy was this way. No one knew what poison Vasusena poured into the heart of Prince Suyodhana, because the conversation occurred outside the palace walls. Bhishma decided that he'd try to get it from the very source itself. He never spoke to the boy after that fateful day. So Bhishma decided to talk with the boy and try to understand his mindset.



The boy started to leave the training ground before Bhishma spoke up. "I was blessed with parents who took great care that I would be well educated. I learned Shaastras at the feet of Guru Vasishtha and Shastras under Guru Parshurama.



I learned Danda Neethi under the son of Angirasa along with mental and spiritual sciences under Guru Sanath Kumara. Guru Markandeya taught me the Brahmanya and Guru Shukracharya taught me politics.



I have studied under the greatest sages, fought in the bloodiest wars, and witnessed the rise and fall of kings and empires.



But you... no matter how many sacred texts I have delved into, nor how many illustrious sages I have studied under, I have never come across a person like you.



The laws and scriptures I have absorbed offer no recompense for the enormity of your actions. Your very existence seems to mock the essence of justice, Radheya. The devastation you wrought defies the very principles of righteousness that I have sworn to uphold.



Is there a person who rejoices in doing evil quite like yourself? Is there a punishment fit for you in any law?" He growled. "Continue to walk in this path you'll find yourself dying like a dog."



Vasusena stopped walking but had his back turned to Bhishma. "I tried to live by dharma, Mahaamahim." The boy replied softly. "I did several adharma, yes I don't deny it... but I tried to live by dharma." The voice was soft but his eyes were not.



"Do you know my reward for it?" Every trace of emotion was wiped off the face of Suryaputra. "Whenever I tried to do good, I was cursed to die like a dog."



Bhishma's throat dried up in a second. Sweat started to form in his hands at the words stated by Radheya. What the hell was this boy speaking?



"You have read many epics, Mahaamahim, and studied under the greatest of teachers," Vasusena finally faced him, his voice low but edged with the intensity of a storm about to break. "And you said you have never seen a person like me.



Then perhaps it is time for you to look beyond the veil of these ancient scriptures and witness the stark reality of our world, Mahaamahim.



Because this is Dwapara Yuga. Not Satya or Treta Yuga. This is Dwapara Yuga. In this grand stage of existence, where the roles are dictated by necessity, there are no true heroes or villains."



He took a step closer, his gaze piercing through the space between them. "Deep within the human soul, there is but one thing that burrows itself into the very core—ego. In this world, one truth drives every living being—hunger. The only force that truly reigns over the restless soul is desire.



Vasusena's gaze was unflinching, his voice now filled with a bitter resolve. "This is the reality, Pitamaha. This is the truth you will never find in your epics or your teachings.



Ego is the first to take root in a man's soul, and it is the last to be torn away. You see, when all else is gone when even the highest ideals are abandoned, the ego remains, clawing at the very heart of a man. (Bhishma)



We feel hunger not just for food, but for power, for love, for recognition. It drives us, and pushes us to the brink of madness. And when that hunger consumes us, when it becomes the very core of our existence, what happens to our lofty principles? They melt away like wax before a flame, leaving nothing but a twisted, charred shadow of what we once were. (Karna)



Desire that clouds the mind, blinds the eye to what is right and just. When desire takes hold, it chains the soul, warping thought, and corrupting even the purest intentions.(Suyodhana)



We are all slaves to our desires, puppets to our egos, and prisoners of our hunger. And when those chains tighten, when those bonds constrict, all our ideals, our Dharmas, burn away like straw in a raging inferno. In that grip, truth becomes malleable, honor becomes negotiable, and even the most sacred oaths are forgotten. (Yudhistira)



This is the truth of the world Mahaamahim. Look at me through those lenses and maybe you'll find your answers."



'What an intelligent child.' Bhishma thought with a startling hint of sadness. What was the use of such intellect when it was used for propagating adharma?



"You speak of ego, hunger, and desire, Radheya," Bhishma began, his tone measured, laden with the weight of countless years of wisdom. "But do you truly believe that these are the forces that define us? That they are the ultimate truths of this world?"



He stepped forward, his presence commanding, his voice resonating with an authority that only the pillar of the Kuru dynasty could wield. "I have walked the path of Dharma my entire life, Radheya." The boy snorted in disbelief.



But Bhishma's eyes bore into Radheya, unyielding and fierce. "What you speak of—ego, hunger, desire—these are the chains that bind us to the mortal world, yes. But they are not unbreakable. A true warrior, a true man, does not succumb to them. He does not allow them to dictate his actions, to cloud his judgment, to corrupt his soul."



He paused, his voice growing even more intense, like the steady, unrelenting beat of a war drum. "The stories, the epics you dismiss—they are not just tales of glory and valor, Radheya. They are lessons, warnings, passed down through the ages to guide us, to remind us that while these chains may be strong, the will to break them is stronger."



Bhishma's expression softened, but only slightly, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features. "I have seen pride, arrogance, and defiance, but never have I seen them so tightly bound to a soul as yours, twisted by your refusal to see beyond the limitations you place upon yourself."



His voice, though stern, held a note of sorrow. "Radheya, you have allowed your desires to blind you, to turn you away from the path of righteousness. You have chosen to let your hunger, your desire for revenge and your ego, drive your every action. But in doing so, you have forsaken the greater truths, the higher callings that a person born of your caliber could have embraced."



"You might think that I did adharma by ordering the death of your brother. But I did my Dharma as the elder of Hastinapur." Bhishma gritted out. "For society to function the way it should... traditions should be upheld. Even Krishna helped us because what we did is Dharma."



Vasusena's expression turned to stone, betraying no emotion. "In your anger, you sought to fracture my family," he said coldly. "But Vishwadhipathi himself came to heal what you tried to break."



Radheya blinked as if trying to grasp the weight of the words spoken to him.



Then he began to laugh—an eerie, echoing sound that filled the training grounds. His laughter grew louder and more unhinged until he nearly lost his balance, barely managing to steady himself by gripping one of the pillars.



A ripple of unease stirred within Bhishma's heart. Why was the Suta laughing? It had been so long since anyone had heard Vasusena laugh—longer still since it had been anything but a cruel, mocking sound at the expense of others' misery.



"The King still hasn't allowed you back into his personal chambers, Mahamahim Bhishma," Vasusena said, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Do you wish to know why?"



Bhishma frowned, uncertain whether Vasusena was mocking him or offering some twisted form of assistance. Knowing the Suta, it was probably both.



The knowledge of why Dhritarashtra barred him and Vidura from his chambers could be a key—a key to restoring the fractured bonds of their family. If he knew, perhaps he could mend the rift and finally be welcomed back.



Pandu, if he was in his brother's place, would have forgiven him long ago. Why, then, was Dhritarashtra so stubborn?



"King Dhritarashtra didn't allow you to enter his chambers because he knew it would change nothing." Vasusena snorted, his tone dripping with disdain. "Because he knows better than anyone what it feels like to be unfavorably compared to a sibling and always always end up with the short end of the stick."



Bhishma's confusion deepened as he struggled to comprehend what the Suta was insinuating.



"You loved Prime Minister Vidura more than King Pandu. And you loved King Pandu more than you ever loved King Dhritarashtra. Do you realize that, without even thinking, you always praise King Pandu in front of King Dhritarashtra? Even now, in your mind, you believe that King Pandu would have already forgiven you."



Bhishma's face remained impassive, unable to comprehend the words of Vaikartana. Yes, he had thought that—but only because it was the truth. How was this relevant now? Why was Vasusena bringing this up?



"Still don't understand what I'm saying, Mahaamahim?" Vasusena's voice was laced with dark amusement, his eyes gleaming with a growing mirth. "Because, as someone who has experienced your disdain firsthand, king Dhritarashtra now seeks to shield his children from the poison of creating jealousy that you so carelessly nurture."



Bhishma's mind reeled. What was the boy implying? Was he suggesting that he, Bhishma, had introduced the poison of jealousy into Dhritarashtra's heart? Dhritarashtra's jealousy stemmed from being denied the throne, not from anything else.



"Ah, you're finally catching on," Vasusena sneered, his grin widening into something vicious. "But that's not quite what I'm saying, Mahaamahim. You didn't plant the seed of jealousy—that was sown long ago when King Dhritarashtra was passed over for the throne because of his blindness."



"But you... you're the one who nurtured that poison," Vasusena continued, his voice dripping with contempt. "Lovingly, happily and without a thought... you have watered it, given it nutrients and raised the plant of envy in the heart of King Dhritarashtra until it grew into the equivalent of the ageless Banyan tree."



His hand shot out, gripping Vasusena's angavastram in a sudden, uncontrollable surge of fury. But the boy merely glanced at the hand clutching his garment and smiled mockingly on his face and batted it away. He looked back into his eyes as if daring Bhishma to act on his anger.



"How dare you?" Bhishma growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble, his rage barely held in check.



Vasusena didn't flinch. Instead, he stared back at Bhishma with a cold, fearless gaze, his expression taunting. The tension between them crackled like a storm. "Shall I prove it, Mahaamahim Bhishma?"



Bhishma's voice thundered with authority, though a tremor of anger slipped through. "I don't have to listen to your lies, boy."



Vasusena's eyes narrowed, his disdain cutting through the air like a blade. "Coward," he hissed, the word dripping with venom. He spat on the ground before Bhishma, the act a deliberate insult. "Afraid I'll expose your flaws to the world?" he sneered, each word carrying a sting meant to wound.



Bhishma's patience snapped. "Then this is a court martial!" His voice rang out, final and absolute. "You have spoken against a member of the royalty of Hastinapur." Without missing a beat, he shouted, "Ananda!" A servant appeared almost instantly, trembling under the weight of Bhishma's wrath. "Go to Prime Minister Vidura and tell him that I request his presence here as soon as possible."



But Vasusena's confidence remained unshaken, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "You want a witness to your humiliation, Mahaamahim Bhishma?" he asked, his tone almost mocking.



The sheer audacity of Vasusena's words made Bhishma falter even as he remained stoic on the outside. He had blundered. Good god, how did he forget that Vasusena knew how all of this would play out?



Vasusena's lips curled into a mirthful smirk. "Are you second-guessing your thoughts in such a short time, Mahaamahim? How on earth did you forget my boon? It seems that old age has finally caught up to you," he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. The barb was sharp, cutting into Bhishma's pride.



"I'll offer you an out," Vasusena continued, his tone deceptively casual. "I'll tell Prime Minister Vidura everything I've shared with you about Prince Bhimasena. It will bring relief to Rajamata Kunti, and she will surely calm her other sons."



His words hung in the air as a twisted offer of mercy.



As the tension between Bhishma and Vasusena reached a fever pitch, the sound of footsteps echoed through the training grounds. Vidura arrived at the place with his usual calm demeanor, a stark contrast to the storm that had just passed between the two that were already there. The son of Parishrami glanced between them, sensing the unease in the air.



Bhishma, for all his pride and fury, was silent. The words he wished to speak remained unspoken. If he started accusing Vasusena here, it would spell doom for him. Radheya's face might be mirthful but the steel in his eyes was not something he could underestimate. So he stood there, silent, his gaze averted from Vidura's inquisitive eyes.



Vasusena, however, was unfazed. The mirth in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a cold, calculating calm as he addressed Vidura directly. "Prime Minister, Mahaamahim Bhishma came to get my help to know the whereabouts of Prince Bhimasena." he began, his voice steady, almost indifferent. "He wished that I could use my boon to find him easily.



Prince Bhimasena is currently in Nagaloka, where no human can reach him without permission. He's alive, but he will be unconscious for the next seven days. Mahamahim Bhishma was informed of the deeper details. Wait near the banks of Vyashampayana Lake after seven days and the Naga chief Aryaka Naga will deliver him to you.



Tell Maharani Kunti that her grandfather is looking over her son so nothing will happen to the young prince."



Vidura absorbed this information, his expression thoughtful. "This will be a relief to Kunti-jiji," he said quietly. "I will go inform her at once."



Bhishma, still silent, watched as Vidhura turned and left to deliver the news. Vasusena had kept his word, and the weight of it all pressed heavily on the elder's shoulders.



"Defend yourself, Vasusena," Bhishma gritted out, his voice strained with the effort to contain his emotions.



Vasusena's lips curled into that familiar smirk. "I have a small question, Mahaamahim Bhishma," he began, his tone laced with returning mirth. "Why is King Pandu remembered so fondly even now among the ministers of the court?"



Bhishma's mind reeled with confusion. What kind of question was this? Was the bloody Suta deliberately toying with him?



"If I wished to play games with you Mahaamahim... you'd be spit on the face by Queen Gandhari. I'm more than capable of it. And the question I will ask would be something completely different." Vasusena replied as if reading Bhishma's thoughts, his mirth remaining undiminished. "But for now, answer my question."



"Pandu is remembered fondly because he was a dharmic king," Bhishma replied in a hard tone, his voice laced with authority. "He always listened to his elders and expanded his kingdom through valor and righteousness."



Vasusena looked amused by the response. "I'm not asking why King Pandu was a good king, Mahaamahim Bhishma. I'm asking why he is remembered even now fondly among the ministers of the court?"



Bhishma's patience began to wear thin. 'Does this suta always have to speak in riddles?' he thought in irritation. 'Why can't he just come to the point directly?'



Sensing Bhishma's frustration, Vasusena conceded with a slight nod. "It seems I was a bit ambiguous with my question, Mahaamahim. Allow me to rephrase."



The boy's voice took on a sharper edge as he continued, "King Pandu ruled Hastinapur for about ten years. In those ten years... two years were spent on his weddings and the related proceedings.



Six years went to wars and the distribution of wealth gained from them. At most, he ruled as an administrator for less than two years before he took his wives and left for Vanavas."



Vasusena's eyes gleamed with a challenge as he posed his question once more. "So tell me, Mahaamahim Bhishma... why is he remembered favorably among the ministers of the court even now?"



Bhishma remained silent, his expression blank as he contemplated the question. It was a valid one. Pandu had left Hastinapur more than a decade ago, and Dhritarashtra had since taken his place as king.



The fickle nature of people's memories often led them to forget even the good done to them after a few years. Pandu was undoubtedly a good king, but as an administrator, his experience was limited. Yet, the ministers still spoke of him with reverence. Why?



"No answer." Vasusena smiled softly, but there was a sinister glow in his eyes. "It is quite simple: They remember King Pandu favorably because of you."



Bhishma frowned, unsure of the relevance of this to their conversation.



"The ministers, who should love the king, always looked at the current king with disappointment because of you, Mahaamahim Bhishma," the son of Surya grinned maliciously.



Bhishma's irritation flared. What was this bloody suta blathering on about? It was Dhritarashtra who, blinded by his own love for his children, had failed to see their flaws. Bhishma knew he had played a role in the Dhārtarāṣṭras' ill behavior, but it was their parents who should ultimately have guided them.



True, he had neglected his duties toward the Dhārtarāṣṭras, and he had even apologized to Gandhari and was prepared to apologize to Dhritarashtra as well. But what did that have to do with Pandu's memory?



"Still didn't understand what I'm saying? Old dogs really cannot be taught new tricks," Vasusena mocked, his tone dripping with disdain. Bhishma's knuckles turned white at the mockery.



"Despite having more time as an administrator... King Dhritarashtra is seen as nothing more than a blind and incompetent ruler who cares only for his children," Vasusena continued softly. "It's not because of his actual nature. It was because of you, Mahaamahim Bhishma."



"Whenever the King dared to express a different opinion, be it good or bad... you openly insulted him in court, declaring that if King Pandu were in his place, he would have done better!"



"Insulted him?" Bhishma growled, seething with anger as he gripped Vasusena's angavastram once more. "It is my duty as an elder of Hastinapur to guide the king on the right path! I should have disregarded your words and initiated a court martial with Vidhura! If Dhritarashtra feels insulted by my guidance... if he cannot accept the counsel of his elders, then he is unfit to rule!"



This time, Vasusena did not shove Bhishma's hand away. Instead, he gripped his wrist tightly, the pressure cutting off blood circulation and causing discomfort. Bhishma's face contorted with unease as the pain began to set in, but before it became unbearable, Vasusena released him, a smirk playing on his lips.



"Your teacher Shanath Kumara would be very disappointed with you, Mahaamahim," Vasusena sneered. "Correcting a person within the confines of four walls is advice. But to berate him in public is nothing short of humiliation. You studied mental and physical sciences under him... How on earth did you forget the basics of psychology?"



Bhishma stood rooted, the weight of the words sinking in.



"From the very day, King Dhritarashtra ascended the throne... you insulted him at every turn. Once might have been dismissed; twice, perhaps tolerated. But your relentless comparisons—repeated time and again—only served to deepen their disdain.



As if that wasn't enough, even when King Dhritarashtra did something right, you would claim that King Pandu would have done it better. You turned every achievement into a reminder of his supposed shortcomings. His every potentially sweet memory you injected with bitterness.



King Dhritarashtra became a king loathed by every minister in the court because you made him that way. You did not merely criticize; you constructed a narrative that rendered him incapable in their eyes.



By constantly comparing him to King Pandu, you planted the notion among the ministers that King Pandu's reign was a golden age, while they now must suffer under this blind man. "



Bhishma's heart pounded, the weight of Vasusena's words sinking in. Memories flashed before his eyes—each instance of harsh criticism, every disparaging remark about Dhritarashtra. The realization hit him with crushing force: Vasusena was not wrong. He had, through his own actions, nurtured the seeds of disdain and disappointment that now tainted Dhritarashtra's reign.



"I truly feel sorry for the king," Vasusena said, his voice tinged with false pity while his eyes sparkled with mockery and amusement. "He always believed that your favor towards King Pandu was due to his blindness. And because he was never properly coronated as a king, he thought the ministers loathed him."



Vasusena's smile was mocking as he continued, "He understood well that you would never show affection to those you deem unworthy. So he hoped that if his son were to be properly crowned, then Prince Suyodhana would at least have the respect of the ministers."



Gangeya's heart tightened as Vasusena's words sliced through him. His inner voice, usually steady and resolute, trembled with the weight of realization. What have I done? Parameshwara, what have I done? The question echoed in his mind, an anguished cry that reverberated through his very soul.



Vasusena's voice continued, sharp and unyielding, "Have you ever wondered why King Dhritarashtra stopped bothering to take your advice? Even before Prince Suyodhana went to air his grievances, he had already stopped listening to you. Do you know why?"



Bhishma stood frozen, the truth beginning to dawn on him with unbearable clarity. He had always believed his counsel was just, rooted in dharma. But now, the memory of every decision, every reprimand, every moment of disapproval loomed before him like specters. The ghosts of his actions started to loom over him and he felt light headed.



"No? I'll tell you. It was because after all the humiliation he suffered at your hand, the King had finally had enough. He understood that even if he did what he liked, he'd be humiliated. And if he did what he didn't like, he'd still be humiliated. So why bother doing things he doesn't like?"



Bhishma's breath hitched. The King, his nephew, had borne the weight of his disdain for years, each slight driving a deeper wedge between them. The notion that his own actions had pushed Dhritarashtra to abandon him, to stop seeking his guidance, was a truth more painful than any battlefield wound.



"And when he learned that even after Prince Bhimasena nearly killed his sons, you conspired to cover it up out of favoritism... that was the last straw."



A chill ran down Bhishma's spine as those words settled in. Favoritism? Was that not what he had always accused his nephew of?



The accusation gnawed at him, ripping apart the foundation of his self-righteousness. The incident with Bhimasena—he had thought he was protecting the Pandavas, preserving peace. But in doing so, he had betrayed the trust of Dhritarashtra, of Suyodhana and of all his other 99 grandsons born of his eldest nephew.



"You always accused King Dhritarashtra of putra moh Mahaamahim." Vasusena smiled cruelly this time, not even bothering to hide his malice. "Your grandson too has an accusation to level against you."



And just like Krishna had done to show Vasusena's past... Radheya conjured up a screen of mist showing the conversation between Suyodhana, Dhritarashtra and Gandhari.



Bhishma's breath caught in his throat as the mist swirled into shape, revealing the royal chamber where Dhritarashtra and Gandhari sat with their son, Suyodhana. Vasusena's voice was cold and detached as he narrated, "See for yourself, Mahaamahim, what your wisdom has wrought."



Suyodhana's mocking tone rang out from within the scene. Mahaamahim Bhishma? Prime Minister Vidura? Amma, really? The scorn in his voice was unmistakable, each word a blade slicing through the thick fabric of his convictions. The child's derision was palpable.



When Suyodhana spoke of being called "Hastinapur ka kalank," the curse of the kingdom, his heart constricted. The title, declared by himself at the first mistake done by Suyodhana in his childishness, was a brand that had festered, warping the young prince's soul. Bhishma watched, horrified, as the words twisted Suyodhana's face into a mask of bitterness.



Then came the accusation that cut Bhishma to the bone: Ask him first to spend time with us without thinking that I and my brothers are Kulnashaks. The contempt in Suyodhana's voice rang loud and clear. Bhishma recoiled inwardly, his mind racing back to every moment he had looked at the sons of Dhritarashtra and seen not children, but harbingers of destruction. How had he failed so profoundly?



Suyodhana's bitter recounting of Vidura's neglect, his manipulations, and his disdain for the Dhārtarāṣṭras felt like a hammer striking an anvil in Bhishma's chest. The young prince's pain, his sense of abandonment, echoed through the mists like a dirge, each word a reminder of the failure that Bhishma could no longer deny.



When Suyodhana confronted his mother about her blindness, asking why she had chosen to abandon her duties to her children, Bhishma's gaze flickered, his resolve weakening further. The boy's accusation that Gandhari had failed as a mother, neglecting her dharma, was a mirror that reflected not just her failure but Bhishma's own. He basically asked his mother why she was blind just on the words of a person who loathed them.



As Suyodhana spoke of Dussasana's pain, Bhishma's body tensed. The image of the young boy, broken and alone, branded as a thief without trial or testimony, flashed before his eyes. How had he been so blind to their suffering? The anguish in Suyodhana's voice, so full of disappointment and betrayal, was a stark contrast to the love Gangeya had always seen in the eyes of the firstborn of Dhritarashtra.



Bhimasena did not try to kill your brother, Suyodhana. The words of Suyodhana's mother, Queen Gandhari, echoed in the background, a futile attempt to quell the storm brewing within her son.



He watched in horror as Suyodhana, filled with righteous fury, interrogated the royal physician. The scene unfolded with brutal clarity—the disdain in Suyodhana's voice, the trembling fear of the physician, and the cruel, calculated violence that followed. Bhishma's heart ached as he saw the prince he had once sought to guide transform into a figure of cold vengeance, using the same laws that he had upheld to justify his actions.



Gangadutta could only watch, powerless, as the young prince sought his own twisted form of justice. The physician's screams, the chilling taunts of Suyodhana, and the cold logic that justified each act of violence—these were all manifestations of the hatred that had been allowed to grow unchecked.



And then, the final blow: By Mahaamahim Bhishma, the physician cried out, revealing the source of the order that had kept the truth from reaching the king and queen. Bhishma's breath caught in his throat as the realization struck him. His own actions, intended to protect, had instead sown the seeds of distrust and resentment.



Suyodhana's sneer as he repeated his bitter words with a chilling finality, cut deeper than any weapon. Mahaamahim Bhishma, amma? Really? That's the person with whom you trusted our well-being? The accusation hung in the air, heavy with the weight of betrayal.



Bhishma's mind raced as he grappled with the implications of what he had just witnessed. The boy who had once looked up to him, who had sought his guidance, now saw him as the architect of his misery. Suyodhana's disdain, his anger, his sense of abandonment—all of it was a reflection of Bhishma's own failures.



And then, the final, crushing realization: If my own mother starts to hate me, how would I expect others to love me? Suyodhana's voice, laced with sorrow and bitterness, drove the point home.



What have I done? The question tore through Bhishma's heart, a desperate plea for answers that would never come. He had upheld the laws of the land, he had tried to maintain peace, but in doing so, he had lost sight of the very people he was meant to protect.



As the vision faded, leaving Bhishma alone with his thoughts, he could not escape the truth that Vasusena had forced him to confront. His actions, his decisions, his unwavering adherence to dharma—it had all led to this moment, where the bonds of family were shattered, so much that the sons of his nephew would rather gouge off their eyes than see him.



Vasusena leaned against a pillar with a mirthful smile. But his eyes are filled with wrath that was confusing to Bhishma. Is Vasusena angry on Suyodhana behalf? Did the boy really love his friend instead of seeing him as an instrument of revenge against him?



"It was on that day the King finally understood what kind of person you are exactly," Vasusena's voice pierced through the mist, pulling Bhishma back to the present. The elder's knees felt weak, the realization crashing down on him with devastating force.



He had called Vasusena an adharmi, a destroyer of his family, yet it was his own actions, his own blindness, that had fractured the royal family beyond repair.



"The King's hope that one day you'd come to love him and his children was dashed to pieces on that day." Vasusena's voice, cold and unrelenting, not caring of the heartbreak and turmoil he felt "He started comparing every reaction you had for his children's action against the children of King Pandu.



"When Yudhistira was born you celebrated. When Suyodhana was born... you ordered the King to throw the infant— a newborn infant who happened to be his own son—into the forest as a feed for beasts.



Before this conversation he thought just because Suyodhana was born with the wrong horoscope... you felt that way. But as the Prince has stated.. Prince Bhimasena too was born the same day. But you loved him. You loved him enough to cover up the fact that he nearly killed the King's sons."



Bhishma's eyes, filled with desperation, pleaded silently with Vasusena to stop. Please... no more. But the suta's cruelty knew no bounds.



"Even a blind man can see your partiality, Mahaamahim," Vasusena spat, his words laced with venom. "And the endless comparisons. The bloody, relentless comparisons."



Vasusena's tone turned mocking, and he started to cruelly imitate Bhishma's voice when he spoke with his nephew. Pandu's children are so polite, Dhritarashtra, why is your son so rude?



Vasusena reminded him every word he shouted at the King all these years about his sons.



Pandu's children are warriors, Dhritarashtra, why are your children so lazy? Pandu's children are brilliant, Dhritarashtra, why can't your children understand when told once? For a man, one word is enough; for a beast, a beating is required. And even after the beatings, why are they still such fools, Dhritarashtra?



"Stop..." Bhishma started to wail. "Please stop." He begged with folded hands.



"You are crying just for this Mahaamahim?" The body spoke with amusement flickering in his eyes.



"Can I tell you a fact, Mahaamahim? For all people call Prince Suyodhana the destroyer of Kuru Vamsa... it is Prince Bhimasena who has the most amount of Kuru's blood on his hands." Bhishma's blood chilled at those words. Vasusena's eyes for the first time he started speaking showed no emotion. His eyes are frighteningly blank.



"In most of the futures I have seen... Prince Bhimasena would be the one who will kill all one hundred Dhārtarāṣṭras. And at least half of all their children will meet their end in Prince Bhimasena's hands."



"You lie.." Bhishma spoke in a hoarse tone.



"Why bother to lie when the truth is far more devastating than anything I could conjure? I'm not lying. Trust me, for what Prince Suyodhana did in those lives... Prince Bhimasena was justified in killing him. But most of his brothers were innocent.



Do you know what the cold-hearted beast you call the gold-hearted boy did? He made an oath to kill all his cousins. Prince Suyodhana made a mistake... no he committed a grave sin, I won't deny it."Vasusena took a deep breath. "But it was his brother Prince Yudhistira who committed an even worse sin."



'My grandson is the son of Yama Dharmaraja. Vasusena must be lying.' He thought hysterically. But the eyes of the suta do not lie. Radheya is not making this up.



"Outwardly the sons of King Pandu were the ones who were the victims. But no one understood that they have the greater share of the sin that occurred on that day. For the love he had and to cover for the sin of his eldest brother... Prince Bhimasena promised to wash away that stain with the blood of his cousins. And he did kill all of them.



And some of their deaths were so brutal that..." The boy shuddered and Bhishma felt uneasy. Vasusena was the kind that remained unflinching, his composure steady even amidst the carnage. If he, too, felt a tremor of unease, how brutal were those killings?



Vasusena then shook his head as if to dispel the memories of the deaths of his grandson. "You call yourself a dharmik, Mahaamahim? So much so that Narayana himself had to descend to heal the fractures in your family?" His laughter was a bitter, mocking echo in the chamber, a mix of wrath and helplessness.



"You dared to call me an adharmi, accusing me of shattering this family. But I never needed to resort to adharma to achieve that. The cracks were already there, deep and festering, long before I ever came into the picture. The weapon that fractured this family was crafted by your hands. I merely wielded the weapon you forged."



His gaze bore into Bhishma's, unrelenting. "In my anger, I sought to fracture your family," he continued, his voice cold as ice. "But Vishwadhipathi himself came to heal what I tried to break. These are your words, are they not?"



Vasusena's tone darkened, a shadow passing over his face. "Do you even understand who Krishna is? Do you comprehend the enormity of the Vishnu avatar that is Keshava?"



"As Matsya, Lord Vishnu was the sustainer of humankind, ensuring their survival. As Kurma, he stabilized the mountain Mandara, allowing the churning of the Ocean of Milk. As Varaha, he slew Hiranyaksha and brought the earth out of cosmic darkness. As Narasimha, he proved that divine justice knew no limits or boundaries, tearing apart the very notion of invulnerability. As the Vamana, he showed that victory need not come through war alone, that it can be achieved through intelligence too."



He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "In all of these avatars, he never lived as a human until Sage Parashurama. Bhargava was incarnated to destroy the arrogant rulers who tortured their subjects, an avatar of valor, unmatched in his wrath and righteousness."



"But then came Sri Rama Chandra, the Maryada Purushottama, the ideal man. In this avatar, Vishnu showed the world what it meant to be human, to uphold duty, respect, and righteousness. He was the beacon of dharma, the epitome of what a man should be."



"You might be wondering why I'm telling you all of this. It is because you are dealing with Krishna..." Vasusena leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "...who is a very different entity altogether. He has the best qualities of all the avatars, but to our misfortune, he is the most dangerous."



"Krishna is a politician, Mahaamahim," Vasusena's eyes glinted with chilling intensity. "If you think you can deal with him like you would with your teacher or with Sri Rama, then you've already dug your own grave.



He is not bound by the same constraints as the others. He is a strategist, a manipulator, a force of nature that bends the world to his will.



He has a very odd reputation among Kshatriyas. A liar, a trickster, a womanizer, a battleground deserter, a thief and many other attributes that are not something you expect from a Kshatriya, let alone a Vishnu avatar. Yet he is more than willing to be called all of these because those words are irrelevant to him as long as he completes his dharma.



Keshava just looks like a soft person. But do you know in the future he will pray to Parameshwara to gain a son. Do you know what kind of a son he wished for? He wished for a son who would be the destroyer of Yadavas, his own kin." Tendrils of fear gripped Bhishma's heart. If he could do that to his own kin... "And do you know the reason why he did it? He did it because it is his duty."



"The best way to describe Keshava is that he is the kind who, without a trace of regret, commits adharma to protect dharma. Ruthless and calculative, he is the kind who can wipe out the entire nation without even lifting a single weapon.



Every word you speak with him, every step you take, every thought you have... be cautious. He does not care about underhanded methods as long as his duty is done. Even if you are on his side... you'll never know when he will decide to dispose of you when your job is done.



And you're saying such a person came here to heal a family broken by me? And without asking or praying?" Vasusena's eyes sparkled with a cruel mirth.



"Think carefully, Mahaamahim. What exactly did Krishna promise you? He promised you entry into the room of Devi Gandhari. When did he ever promise you that he'll heal the fracture between the Dhārtarāṣṭras and the Pandavas?"



A shiver ran down Bhishma's spine as the memory of his conversation with Krishna resurfaced, and with it, the unsettling realization that Radheya was speaking the truth.



"Why?" Bhishma croaked out, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why would he cheat us?"



"When did he ever cheat you, Mahaamahim?" Vasusena's grin widened, revealing every tooth, a chilling expression of satisfaction. "He did exactly what he said he'd do. Nothing more, nothing less. Did I not tell you he's the most dangerous of all avatars? As for why, I do understand a part of why he did what he did but I have no reason to tell you."



Bhishma— his face soaked with tears—looked at the mocking face of Suryaputra. He had initiated this conversation to try and understand a child who had gained both hate and respect from two of Narayana avatars. He had tried to make the boy understand that his brother's death is for greater good.



'What a fool I was. Keshava had warned me, hadn't he?' The subtle hints, the quiet admonitions—Krishna had tried to make him see what lay beneath the surface of Vaikaratana.



Kripa too had seen it, recognizing the wisdom that resided within the young child, understanding that this was not a boy to be confronted in any battle—political or physical.



But Bhishma—in his self-righteousness, in the ego that had built up over years of being the unchallenged patriarch of the Kuru dynasty—had underestimated Vaikartana. How could he have been so blind?



Vasusena might look like a child, but he was no mere child that Bhishma could guide or mold on the path of dharma. No, this was a soul who had glimpsed the countless threads of fate, who had seen the myriad of ways the future could unfold.



He was never a child. From the moment Vasusena had that first vision, he was already far older than anyone could comprehend. Trapped in the body of a child, yes, but carrying the weight of lifetime in his mind.



That's why he remained unbothered by the insults hurled at him, why the scorn of others washed over him like rain over a mountain. To him, these were the yappings of babes—insignificant, meaningless.



Bhishma—who had always prided himself on his wisdom—suddenly felt small, insignificant in comparison to the boy who stood before him. Vasusena was far wiser than he could ever hope to be, a man who had already traversed the paths of dharma and adharma, who understood the world in a way that Bhishma could never grasp.



Hell, just with this single conversation he had learnt more about himself and his family than he can ever imagine.



Vasusena was a mirror, reflecting the flaws, the biases, the partialities that had long festered within the Kuru dynasty.



Every accusation Vasusena hurled was laced with truth, bitter and undeniable. Bhishma had to admit to himself that he had been blind to the very fractures he had caused. The favoritism, the relentless comparisons, the cruel judgments—all had contributed to the creation of the division of his family.



He just blamed Vasusena because it was easy for him. Vasusena never needed to fracture the family with adharma; the family had fractured itself, and Vasusena was the one who had looked past the facade of a united family to point a finger at the rot.



Radheya's bitterness was not just the result of his own suffering. It was the result of knowing that he had been a pawn in a game far greater than himself—a game played by gods and kings, where his own desires, his own wishes, were sacrificed for a greater good that he could neither see nor accept.



He understood, at that moment, that Vasusena was not just a man who saw fate. He was a man who had become the very embodiment of fate's cruelty. And in this, perhaps, he was the most dangerous enemy the Kuru dynasty had ever faced—not because he sought their destruction, but because he understood, with painful clarity, that their destruction was inevitable. And all of it, Bhishma realized with a cold, sinking feeling, had been set into motion by his own hand.



"You allowed Kripacharya to go to Mahendragiri to find a leash for me." Bhishma's heart skipped a beat in fear. Vasusena's smile was an unsettling blend of pity and viciousness.



The boy's gaze bore into him, sharp as a blade. "Kripacharya will bring back knowledge, the only thing that could ever hope to leash me. There is only one person in this world whom I love more than life itself. And Padmanabha has already revealed to you who that person is. He did not say the name but he already revealed to you who that is."



Bhishma's mind raced back to the dimly lit room where Krishna had spoken, his voice heavy with admiration of the strength Vasusena possessed.



"He will lose his entire family due to the schemes and machinations of Gandharraj Shakuni. Vasusena loved one person above all else. In his own words, there are very few sins he wouldn't commit for the happiness of that brother."



As those words echoed in Bhishma's mind, Vasusena continued, his voice laced with a wry, almost bitter amusement. "Kripacharya will learn the name of the one I loved more than anything from your teacher. He will uncover the name of the brother for whom I would willingly descend into hell.



My brother, my soul, my very heart." The softness in the eyes of Radheya was stunning to look at. Love poured out of his eyes and all his features softened. Who inspired such a love in this heartless Suryaputra... Bhishma longed to know.



"Any other man who tries to wield that knowledge against me will die. For he is both my strength and my weakness." In a matter of seconds, Vasusena's eyes hardened with violence and Bhishma shuddered. Just the thought of anyone touching the person he loved made Vasusena this way?



"But you... you or anyone in Hastinapur could never hope to wield it against me." And these words confused him. Why not?



"Tomorrow, after you complete your talk with Kripacharya, come with Prime Minister Vidhur here to this place. I will reveal to you the conversation that took place between Suyodhana and me.



"Let us lay all our cards on the table, Mahaamahim," Vasusena's voice curled into a sneer. "You have a thought gnawing at you, don't you? A thought that every free moment I possess, I spend plotting your family's ruin. Let me spare you the burden of your assumptions."



He leaned in, his tone dropping to a cold whisper. "You are the snake I have already slain, Mahaamahim." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "No, let me rephrase my words. You are the snake who ate itself due to pride and all I can see is a dying pitiful thing I can't even be bothered to kill.



I have won against you a long time ago, and I am not the sort who strikes at the head of a dead serpent. My time is devoted to one purpose alone—protecting those I hold dear."



A glint of disdain flickered in his eyes. "Tomorrow, the truth will dawn on you. The Dhārtarāṣṭras will always harbor hatred toward you, and the weight of that knowledge will crush any illusion of control you cling to. And when the name of that brother falls upon your ears, you will grasp the futility of any leash you seek to place upon me."



"In the beginning of our talk, I mentioned that if I ever wished to play games with you, I would ask a question. Tomorrow's conversation will begin with that question. But why wait? Let me ask you now. Gives you more time to prepare yourself for our next conversation."



"What time is ever enough to prepare against the force of nature itself?" Bhishma's thoughts were weighed with sorrow. He clung to a fragile hope—that Vasusena might find a flicker of kindness within him to show mercy. But Bhishma was not deluded as before. Such a reprieve seemed distant, if not impossible.



Vasusena—Radheya—had never shown him kindness, not after the adharma Bhishma had wrought against his brother.



"Are you a senile, incompetent old man, or a malicious, self-righteous old man? Think carefully about your answer." What kind of a question is this?



Vasusena's words hung in the air, leaving Bhishma shattered, as if the weight of his age and failures suddenly bore down upon him with unbearable force. Without another glance, Vasusena turned and walked out of the training ground, leaving behind a man crumbling under the weight of truths he could no longer deny.



The servants stumbled upon him, trembling and broken, his sobs echoing through the stone corridors of Hastinapur. They exchanged uneasy glances, unable to comprehend how a mere hour of conversation between Vasusena and the Divine Commander could unravel the formidable Bhishma, the unyielding pillar of their kingdom, into this disheveled wreck. What power did that boy wield to bring down the mightiest of men?



And what deep-seated enmity could drive Vasusena to relentlessly antagonize and wound Gangadutta, time and time again?



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Hello guys... Last few months have been difficult since my accident and yesterday I finally went to the doctor for the final checkup. Good news is that I don't need to carry a stick in my hand for the rest of my life. Bad news is that I need extensive physiotherapy. Like for an year. Not looking forward to it.



Anyway... the response for the last three chapters is good and for that I decided to give you guys the next chapter asap. But this one was too long so I decided to split it into two chapters. I'll try to update the next part in two weeks or so.



And a request to all of you. Please please please comment on the things you liked or didn't like. I'm willing to take constructive criticism and even one word would fill this heart with happiness..



And finally shoutout to HopeMikaelson2009 for helping me write this story. Without you my friend... I cannot have written this. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Today is your birthday and this chapter is the only gift I can give to you.

Please do wish her on this auspicious day.